


Love, You're Not Alone

by in48frames



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in48frames/pseuds/in48frames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After dreaming about Angie, Peggy gets back in touch and Angie surprises her with a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, You're Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> That dream sequence was very rude. Title from Stand By You by Rachel Platten.

Cross-country communication in the middle of the twentieth century wasn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, the telephone made life easier by leaps and bounds, but if you were always working, and your best friend was always working, and she didn't have access to a phone all the time, even if _you_ lived in a house with its own phone, your hours were never regular enough to catch her when _she_ was near a phone.

Peggy had sent Angie a letter as soon as she was settled in Los Angeles with her new address and phone number, but they'd realized very quickly that they'd have to stick to letters, most of the time. Still, for whatever reason, when Peggy had the dream, she decided she had to tell Angie about it over the phone. It had been too long since they'd spoken, anyway, so she sent off a letter and wrote a list of dates and times when Angie could call her.

A week and a half later, she was sitting by the phone doing a crossword when it rang, and she picked it up before it could ring a second time. "Hello?"

"English! Feels like years since I've heard that voice."

"Angie. I wasn't sure how long—"

"Got here on Thursday. The paper smells like you, you know."

Peggy smiled into the receiver, taking a breath. "Before I get carried away, how are you? How's things?"

"It's all good, you know, the same old except minus you. These girls are nice and all but they never quite measure up—the day I stop comparing every new girl I meet to Peggy Carter, well…"

"Los Angeles was made for you."

"So you've said."

Peggy had thought it reasonable enough when she'd first suggested it, for Angie to move out west and join her in Stark's mansion, but Angie didn't want to keep living off Peggy, needed to make her own way, which of course Peggy understood completely, but—sometimes she thought about what it would have been like if her convalescence had been under the care of 'nurse' Angie, and, well.

"You mentioned a dream."

"Oh, Angie, it was something else. I'd been knocked on the head so it was a bit more than a normal dream, but suddenly I was in the Automat and I saw you and even in a dream, it was heaven to see you. You offered me pie, but then you—well, we all started singing and dancing. You wanted me to—it was all a bit chaotic, but these two men—"

"Two men?"

Peggy was surprised Angie wasn't more stuck on the whole song and dance number. "It's complicated. You were telling me to choose between them, well, in song and dance, but I don't think I ever did… Even in the dream, I mostly just wanted to say sod the men and share a pie with you and talk and talk and talk…"

"You move out to LA and suddenly you're choosing between two men? You do need girl talk."

"It's not really like that. If you were here I would tell you the whole thing… I do wish you were here."

"Miss you too, English. Maybe one of these days I'll fly out for a visit."

"You're welcome anytime."

She meant it when she said it, though she certainly didn't expect to arrive back at the mansion at 3am a week later and find Angie sitting on the front steps with a suitcase. Peggy was already squinting, trying to stay awake as she drove up to the front of the house, and then she saw the small figure sitting on the steps and squinted harder. It wasn't until her headlights swept over the figure that she realized it was Angie.

Angie, who squinted back, staring at the car with her hand gripping the handle of the suitcase until Peggy climbed out of the front seat and slammed the door behind her. Standing up, Angie called out, "English!" and waited for her to get close enough to pull her into a tight embrace, longer and tighter than they'd ever hugged before, and she missed her, God, she'd missed her.

When Angie started to move back, smiling, Peggy swayed on her feet, all the blood rushing out of her swimming head, her knees about to buckle, and Angie immediately moved forward again, catching her about the waist as Peggy clutched at her shoulders.

"English! Peg, you okay?"

"Might've bumped my head again," Peggy muttered. That was an understatement—she'd been knocked out again, and Peggy was starting to wonder if she wasn't doing permanent damage to her rattled brain. "Can you just—help me inside."

"Of course," Angie said, her arm around Peggy's waist holding her tight against her side as she picked up her suitcase in her other hand and walked them over to the door.

Peggy dug out her keys, unlocking the door and shutting it behind them, and said, "It's just the end of this hall."

They managed to make it to her bed, where Angie tucked Peggy into bed fully-clothed with little argument. She would argue, she wanted to, but at the moment she couldn't even keep her eyes open, even when Angie sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Peggy's hair away from her face, the backs of her fingers brushing down the side of Peggy's face.

"I really am happy to see you," Peggy said, eyes closed, unable to move.

"I know you are, English," Angie murmured back, her hand moving to the other side of Peggy's face and going through the same routine there before settling her palm on Peggy's cheek, her thumb smoothing over the skin there.

Peggy sighed—it felt so nice, and nobody else could get this close to her, nobody else would be allowed to, and she felt her eyes start to well up behind her lids. She was surrounded by people but she was so, so lonely. "Could you fetch me a glass of water?" she asked, her throat tight, hoping a moment alone would allow her to compose herself.

"Sure thing," Angie said, taking the glass from Peggy's nightstand and going into the bathroom to fill it up, and Peggy took deep, slow breaths, opening her eyes just long enough to check Angie was out of the room before brushing her fingers over her eyelashes, trying to dry them.

When Angie came back, she set the glass back down and stood beside the bed, slipping her hand into one of Peggy's and saying, "Sorry, I don't know where to sleep."

" _I'm_ sorry," Peggy said back, guilt sour in her stomach. "What a horrid host I've been. Would it be awful for you to just sleep here tonight?"

Angie squeezed her hand. "You're fine, English. That bed's plenty big—nice digs, by the way. I'll change and be back in a jiff." She was, and stopped at Peggy's side once more. "You need anything else? Ice? An aspirin?"

Her head didn't actually _hurt_ , strange as that seemed. It just felt jumbled and dizzy and broken in some way. "I'm fine, thank you. I'm sure it'll be better in the morning."

"Okay," Angie said, sounding ever-so-slightly doubtful. She rounded the bed and climbed in on the other side, sliding across until she could rest her hand on Peggy's shoulder. "You'll tell me if you need anything else. Just wake me right up, will you?"

Probably not. "Sure."

Angie stayed where she was another minute, then leaned forward, her hand still on Peggy's shoulder, and pressed a kiss to Peggy's cheek. "Sleep tight."

When she woke up, Peggy first did an inventory. Her head, she thought, felt a degree or two better; certainly not better _enough_ , and that stoked the fires of panic in her belly. Otherwise, she was fine—a little more than fine, since Angie was pressed up against her side, one arm flung over Peggy's waist.

It was nice—a little more than nice, a little bit like something she hadn't known she had been longing for. Pleasant—a little more than pleasant, and maybe it was time to stop trying to minimize this.

"Oops," Angie said, peeking up at Peggy's face and starting to move away. "Was I crowding you?"

"No," Peggy said quickly, catching Angie's arm before she could get far. "No, you weren't."

Settling back down, Angie shifted a bit closer, her arm wrapping comfortably around Peggy's waist as she laid her head on Peggy's shoulder. "How d'you feel?" she asked, and it took Peggy a second to realize she wasn't asking how Peggy felt waking up in bed with her best friend.

"A little better."

"Should you—"

There was a knock at the door, and Angie rolled away to the other side of the bed as Peggy said, "Come in."

Jarvis opened the door, holding a large tray, and didn't blink at the sight of Angie in Peggy's bed. "Miss Carter," he said. "Miss Martinelli. Good to see you again. I thought you two might like some breakfast after your late night."

"Thank you, Mr. Jarvis," Peggy said, sitting up too quickly and having to squeeze her eyes shut again, bringing her hands up over her face. Angie was beside her a second later, one hand on her back as she used the other to pile Peggy's pillows up against the headboard and then nudged Peggy to sit back against them.

"Okay?" she said quietly, and Peggy nodded, the rush beginning to ebb.

"Miss Carter, are you injured?" Jarvis asked, coming over with the tray, and added, "Again?"

"Again?" Angie echoed, helping Jarvis set the tray down over both of their laps. Once his hands were free, he tipped Peggy's chin up and peered into each of her eyes in turn.

"Did you get hit on the head?"

"Mmhmm."

He felt around her skull with gentle hands, finding the tender spot near her crown, and she flinched. Angie took her hand and Jarvis prodded at it again carefully.

"You really must avoid getting your head involved, Miss Carter. Rebar through the gut is one thing—quite a dangerous thing, might I add, rather life-threatening—but this head of yours, as hard as you think it is, pays the bills."

Angie's hand tightened around hers as he spoke, though she didn't say anything, and Peggy sent Jarvis a disgruntled look, which he returned in kind.

"I think you have a concussion. Every time you get knocked on the head, it will get worse. If you don't let it heal, you will die."

"That's a little catastrophic."

"It's the truth," he shot back, turning to leave the room. "Miss Martinelli, please try to talk some sense into her."

Once the door closed behind him, Angie said, "What's he think you're gonna do?"

Peggy sighed, sitting back against the pillows, and after a minute she looked down at their hands. "Go back to work," she said, "which is fair enough."

"You're tellin' me you went to work after having rebar through your gut," she said flatly, staring at Peggy's face as her hands continued absent-mindedly playing with Peggy's.

"Once or twice."

" _Not_ at the telephone company."

Peggy didn't reply, looking down at the tray and picking up a fork.

"Which I'm assuming means you weren't sittin' around all day."

Poking at the pile of scrambled eggs, Peggy speared a chunk and brought it to her mouth.

"With a hole through your gut."

The eggs were delicious, which was a plus since she had to chew for a good two minutes.

"And you're gonna do the same with a busted brain."

"My brain is not _busted_."

"But it will be. That's what he said, ain't it?"

"Mr. Jarvis is not a doctor."

"Maybe you should _see_ a doctor."

Peggy went back to the eggs, and Angie threw one hand up in the air in frustration, though she left the other curled around Peggy's. After a moment, Peggy said, "I have to go to work."

"Oh yeah?" Angie picked up her own fork and gestured with it before digging into the eggs. "Take a turn around the room, let's see how you do."

"You may have a point," Peggy replied, as she continued eating. "Actually, you do have a point. But what am I to do? Sit around the house?"

"Horror," Angie said mockingly. "The great Peggy Carter takes a day off, how will she survive? Or wait, is it the world that's going to self-destruct?"

Peggy smiled. "You don't even know what I do."

"Federal something something scientific… something. Plenty important, I have no doubt, but somehow I think they'll make it without you."

"You'd think," Peggy said, pushing her eggs around the plate, before turning to Angie with her brow furrowed. "Do you think I'm arrogant?"

Angie's eyebrows went up, her gaze still on the food, and she delayed her response for long enough that Peggy figured she knew what she was going to say.

"Oh, God," Peggy said, looking back down at her plate, and Angie turned over the hand she was holding, her thumb rubbing across the centre of Peggy's palm.

"Now, I didn't say yes. You're somethin', English, that much is true. I wouldn't say arrogant. Let Jarvis call in for you, all right? We'll spend the day here."

"I'm really happy you're here, Angie," Peggy said impulsively, looking up at her again, her eyes wide-open and vulnerable, and Angie looked back at her, setting her fork down and reaching up to Peggy's face.

"I know you are, English," she murmured, and leaned in to kiss Peggy's cheek again.

With her heart in her throat, Peggy turned her face, letting their lips meet, and then shut her eyes, wincing. "Sorry."

Angie took both her hands back and Peggy thought she'd really blown it now, opening her eyes to see Angie staring down at her lap, both hands curled there. "Sorry, because… that was the concussion talking?"

"No…" Peggy said, confused. "Unless that… if that makes it easier for you…"

Angie shook her head. 'Why are you sorry?"

"I don't normally kiss people like that," Peggy said, "without their permission. Especially a friend. I'm sorry." She watched Angie's profile as she shook her head again, just barely, and then swallowed hard.

"Would you like my permission?"

Peggy's breath caught in her chest, her face struggling through a dozen emotions before Angie looked up and Peggy smiled, just a little, and nodded.

"You've got it," Angie breathed, and Peggy reached up, cupping the side of Angie's face and drawing her closer, meeting her in the middle and kissing her gently. Angie pressed back, just as gentle, letting her lips part against Peggy's, and Peggy wasn't sure whether the rush she got was from the concussion or the kiss, but she had to pause and breathe.

"Was that okay?" Peggy asked, opening her eyes, and Angie nodded with a shy eagerness. "I…" Peggy started. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"You coulda done it anytime, Peg," Angie said, finding her hand again and letting her cheek fall to rest on Peggy's shoulder. "I never woulda pushed you away."

A relieved breath escaped her in a huff, almost half a laugh, and she brought her free hand up to Angie's cheek again, saying, "That's good to know. That's really good to know."

"You're Peggy Carter," Angie said softly, both her hands wrapped around Peggy's. "You could kiss anyone, I bet, anyone in the whole world."

She did laugh, then. "I don't think that's true."

"Well, you can kiss me. Anytime."

Peggy smiled, closing her eyes and feeling at peace for the first time in months. Even with the busted head, even if she couldn't work for a little while, she felt better than she had in ages. It figured—the one thing she left behind in New York was the one thing she couldn't do without.


End file.
